


Freshly Brewed Hope

by Luthienberen



Series: I Say! Jeevisan Bingo! [2]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hope, Inspired by Persuasion – Jane Austen, M/M, POV First Person, Period Typical Attitudes, Romance, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Finding sanctuary in a tea shop during a rainstorm Bertie contemplates the past and how, due to persuasion, he lost Jeeves five years ago. Yet now Jeeves was back in his life and he couldn’t help but feel hope. Could second chances happen?
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Honoria Glossop/Original Female Character(s), Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Series: I Say! Jeevisan Bingo! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738093
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Freshly Brewed Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Indeedsir](https://indeedsir.dreamwidth.org/)2020 Jeeves and Wooster Bingo Card challenge. My Bingo Card is [here](https://luthienberen.dreamwidth.org/177014.html).  
>  **Square: Tea Shop In Rain**

* * *

Sitting alone in a tea shop was a mighty bore. The prattle of the self-absorbed mingled with the few trying to eke out a relaxing reprieve despite the dashed rain lashing the fine glass windows. A few others were on a bender, somehow transforming a respectable tea shop into a background chorus of romantic lovers vying for the attention of the one they loved.

The frightful thing about that was the fact their object of desire fancied someone _else,_ so it was a terrific mess.

Quite a scene to watch really and right out of that Shakespeare fellow's play...the one with fairies and a person whose head is transformed into a donkey one? Jeeves would have recalled the name.

Jeeves.

Knocking my spoon against the fine bone china teacup was not gentlemanly, but what's a broken fellow like me to _do?_ That clink as the sterling silver S. bashed into the TC was quite soothing - nearly as good as downing a fine whiskey, though at least one remained sober and not waking up with a fire cone, bedraggled lady’s wrap and lipstick all on one's person – and _then_ having to explain it all to a valet with an intimidatingly raised eyebrow.

Of course, that was the problem.

The blighter Jeeves, a truly terrific chap with a brain swollen with all the excellent nutrients of fish – all resulting in a B. of immense ability – was no longer my valet.

We parted on poor terms five years ago due to my draconian Aunt Agatha. Normally, I wouldn't give a toss and would have simply allowed Jeeves to lead the way out of another chapter in B.W's messy life, but not that time.

No, instead I had been _persuaded_ by my Aunt Dahlia that it would be wise to let Jeeves go since rumours had grown to be quite as damning. 

What could I do, but concede?

I would take any bally risk, but what sort of chap would permit the man you loved to be ruined? A rum sort that's what.

The skies gave a rumble and a fresh downpour followed. Quite a din, reminds me of the Drones during a particularly rambunctious party. It also reflected my sour mood nicely as I munched on a delicate cucumber sandwich while all the time eyeing the delicious miniature chocolate raspberry cakes waiting for me.

J. had always baked a scrumptious chocolate raspberry cake. My vision was suddenly blurry so I seized my handkerchief to dab at my leaking eyes. 

To think it's all my fault!

My mouth had chittered away and instead of using my B. to explain the situation, (in that we could lie low for a while), J. believed I wished us to part permanently. Words were exchanged and the Wooster honour was rather damaged in the duel, so before I could really remount my charger and try again, the best chap and valet I had ever known was off in a swirl of perfect shoes and matching suits.

Since then I have flagged and my general appearance is of a damp cloth with the accompanying emotions of a wilted flower.

What's the point? No J. to look stern or pale at my bright green shoes and red and blue checked waistcoat?

So life dragged on with marriage proposals fading, as any respectable lady doesn't want a husband whose outlook was a W.F. type for company. Good for them (and smart).

Then a month ago Honoria flew in with none other than Jeeves as a "guest" of her new club (a bright flamboyant number, full of women and men singing and dancing whilst becoming a little overfriendly in my opinion). It was situated in a quiet section of London, with the outside so unprepossessing I had thought that Honoria had started a boring club detailing the history of lacrosse.

I had been invited also and was taking in the sights of the --- Club when Honoria appeared with Jeeves, her smile wide and welcoming, but for me it recalled the imminent trouble one found oneself as a child after an adult discovered your hands full of cake, after you _promised_ not to eat the cake.

What an encounter! I shudder at the memory and our exchange…

_Jeeves’ expression which had been open and amused froze, resembling the ice in my whiskey tumblr with how hard and fractured the old jaw and eyes turned. On my part I thought my legs were jelly. My hands were sweaty and my stomach was doing the Charleston._

_He was as handsome as ever, but when did my wonderful Jeeves become so cold? Always polite, even when pulling the rug from under you, and that special glint in his eyes just for me, or the twitch of that marble jaw when I said something he found silly but delightful._

_Consequently, I said many silly things just for my Jeeves._

_He inclined his head in a display of civility though his greeting was chilly. I stuttered a hello and could say no more even as my mind sought desperately for a subject. Alas, Honoria had taken Jeeves along to meet the overfriendly patrons of her club. In their wake I fled the scene, too broken to care if I had created a scene._

Since that evening my poor heart was in a state of hope and dread for I had established that Jeeves was still single – could there be hope? No, what man returned to you once you had shattered their heart so irrevocably?

Nevertheless, we had met numerous times after that encounter, where my soul and flesh were in a conflicting riot of wishing Jeeves to be present while simultaneously desiring him to be absent. Each time my hope waxed and waned, though our previous two occasions had granted me a fuller share of hope, especially when I managed to actually assist Honoria’s girlfriend when, following an emergency visit to an ex-Naval resident living by the coast, she was caught in a sudden storm near the coast in -----.

All I did was bundle her up (she couldn’t walk due to her bad leg) and carry her to our hotel where our party was staying. Jeeves did the miracle work of doctoring our doctor whilst I merely played a merry jig to try and keep up our poor doctor’s spirits. The Wooster Code demanded I be a gentleman so what more could I have done than keep her company when Honoria had to fetch her parents and Jeeves her medicine?

Can’t bally well leave the poor woman by herself.

Still…Jeeves had looked me often during that time causing me the vapours, just like those women in the old Victorian novels, except I didn’t have smelling salts which was most annoying. Always carry a bottle now – this B.W. can learn a trick or two. Apart from the old V. Jeeves’ soft glances had me out of sorts, offering dashes of hope.

Yet his abrupt departure to see his niece meant my hopes remained like tattered sails in one of those old sailing ships and needed fortifying.

Hence my visit to this delectable tea shop, seeking tea instead of whiskey. Can't let the last shred of the Wooster image sink into oblivion. Witnessing the lovesick players were painful in view of the last few months, so I devoured one chocolate raspberry miniature cake with a gnashing of the old nashers, wishing all the while that my Jeeves had baked the treats.

Then there he was, entering the tea shop with the same grace as of old. His umbrella caused the rain to part like he was some magical being and when he shook out his wet brolly I clutched my teacup to my chest. My good old N. stopped chomping on the last morsel of cake as his gaze locked on mine.

What I saw in those dark eyes caused my sails to mend a trifle more so I summoned all the Wooster courage and rose on uneven legs.

Jeeves, clever man he was, (due to that large and magnificent B. of his), spared me and reached my table in an instant.

“May I join you Mr Wooster? I would like to apologise.”

Ah, his voice was so raw, expression terribly fragile. I feared he would break like my teacup if pressed too hard. Stomach doing another turn at the Charleston I nodded and leapt upon my charger to do battle.

This was a second chance and no Wooster worth his salt would let it go. Sailing ship fully rigged and my charger seated, (a mix of metaphors, but my emotions were a deluge and couldn’t be corralled into clean compartments), I sat with a thump.

My voice was equally raw when I called for the waiter and another afternoon tea. The moment he brought our tea Jeeves began talking.

I rather think that my tears matched the rain outside our little tea shop and when we exited much later, the discreet and tender touch of Jeeves’ hand on my arm pierced my soul with how much emotion it conveyed. Already overcome with a happiness I couldn’t name, I determined not to lose my man to rumours or draconian Aunts even if it meant exile for a time.

Persuasion had worked once, but this time I would only be persuaded by the man beside me.

Indeed, not long after that encounter we were on the sea heading to our new home in ---. Honoria and her doctor had cried but wished us well and I surprisingly realised I would miss energetic Honoria who had been the means of my reunion with Jeeves.

All that faded away however once we boarded and began our new lives together.

When later Jeeves kissed me softly in our cabin I think the tattered sails of my heart mended, rising to full expanse, and propelling us forward on the high seas with a full wind. On its currents I grabbed my J. and decided he best put his fishy B. to good use on our persons.

**_~ Fins ~_ **


End file.
